


Remembrance

by FlashySyren



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Background Volstagg/Gunhilde, Daddy Volstagg, F/M, Mention of Thor/Jane, Mischief and Mistletoe 2014, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, not entirely canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:13:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2827898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashySyren/pseuds/FlashySyren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of two Yuletides, separated by centuries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [epistretes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/epistretes/gifts).



> This is slightly AU in the fact that it is written in a world where:  
> a.) Frigga didn't die. She doesn't show up in this fic, but I'm just going to throw that out there. Frigga lives.  
> b.) Loki did not come back to take the throne after his "death" on Svartalfheim. Odin still rules.  
> c.) You can assume that Loki's sacrifice actually meant something to him as an effort for redemption.
> 
> I think that's pretty much the important stuff.  
> Happy Holidays!

Gunhilde balanced the toddler on her hip as she moved to the music, and the little girl squealed. All while Volstagg looked fondly upon his wife and youngest daughter. He only turned back to table when his son ran to his father, cradling his hand.

 

Volstagg tutted, but opened his arms to the boy who valiantly held back tears. “Hurt yourself, did you?”

 

He shook his head and pointed at the blonde girl who hung back. “Hildegard pushed me.”

 

The wound was examined with all due care, but after a moment, Volstagg let it go. “It’ll be good as new in a few minutes, Rolf.” Then he looked over at his daughter, raising big bushy eyebrows. “You’ll apologize to your brother, Hilde, or you can be off to bed.”

 

Surprisingly perhaps, such a mild rebuke had more effect than many parents when they yelled, and the girl, looking more than appropriately chastised, waited for her brother to come back to her before giving him a hug.

 

Fandral laughed, and picked up his tankard. “They’re a rowdy bunch aren’t they?”

 

“They’re children.” Volstagg responded with a shrug. “They’re going to get into mischief.”

 

A chestnut haired beauty sauntered over with a pitcher of mead and a playful grin as she topped off both men’s cups, and Fandral hooked an arm around her waist to pull her into his lap. “You look ravishing tonight, Basira.”

 

She laughed and pressed a kiss to his lips before extricating herself from his arms. “You keep that in mind, Dashing Warrior, but I have duties yet.”

 

He pouted at her, but let her go, turning back to Volstagg with a sigh.

 

“Basira,” Volstagg called after her, “will the food be served soon?”

 

“Verily.” She replied. “And I’ll ensure you receive the first serving.”

 

“It seems I’ll find no companionship for hours yet.” Fandral lamented, and looked out over the people gathered in the streets, dancing and laughing as the snow drifted about them largely unnoticed.

 

“Speaking of companions, have you heard from Lady Sif?”

 

Volstagg’s red mane shook as he indicated that he hadn’t. “I hoped she would come, but I’m not surprised by her absence. She might as well have stayed inside last year as quiet as she’d been.”

 

“I got her a gift, but mayhaps it would be better to hold on to it.” Fandral’s brows creased in concern.

 

“She’ll be receiving one from me as well, though I think I’ll wait to present it when I next have a decent opportunity. I did pass Thor’s gift on to one of the servants to give to her.”

 

“It’s too bad he couldn’t stay, but I suppose he’s celebrating with Jane.”

 

“I didn’t ask.” Volstagg rumbled softly. “But Sif might have come tonight if he was here.”

 

“It’s not Thor’s company that Sif wishes for most.” Fandral responded shrewdly.

 

Volstagg’s expression was resigned. “Aye. I know.”

 

~

 

_Thick, dark clouds covered the sun, and a chill wind warned that snow would soon fall, but for two children with a list of items to be gathered for the Queen, and the excitement that could only come from being given such a responsibility for the first time, the weather was the last thing on their minds. Loki clutched the parchment in his hand, held close to his body as if it were a treasure while he and Sif darted through the crowds of much taller adults. Adults who seemed oblivious to their presence there. Which was proven when one particularly large man carrying two bags of grain sidestepped to avoid a parked cart and bumped into Sif hard enough to send her sprawling into the street._

 

_Loki doubled back when he realized he’d lost his friend, and found her brushing dust from the breeches she’d stolen from Thor’s mend-pile. “Getting clumsy, are you?” He teased her.  
Sif looked up from her task, her cheeks pinking in embarrassment and the kind of anger that only a young girl could get away with. “You get run over by a low-born oaf and we’ll see how far you fly!”_

 

_Knowing his friend as well as he did, Loki took a step back and raised his hands, the list crinkling a bit as he gripped it. “I’d rather not find out.” Being pushed into the path of the next oversized adult did not sound like fun to him. Not at all. However, he had never been particularly good at knowing when to back off, and it was just too good an opportunity when swiped her hand over her dirtied thigh, blonde hair falling back into her face. “Don’t worry about the dust, Sif. You already look like a common peasant in those ill-fitting breeches.” He smiled, a mischievous grin, and was already shifting to bolt. “Not to mention the torn out knee.”_

 

_Which was all he needed to say to unleash her anger. She sprang after him, glad that the weather had deterred many from the marketplace, otherwise he’d already have been lost to the crowd. He was faster than her, something she was determined to one day correct, but she was single-minded in her pursuit, and luck was on her side when he was forced to slow down around a vegetable cart. She caught up, but didn’t slow, didn’t reach out to grab him. Instead she launched herself at him, tackling the dark-haired prince to the ground._

 

_“You said it looked fine and the tear was barely noticeable!” Her own momentum had carried her past him, where she sat up to berate him for teasing her._

 

 _“Oww.” Loki complained, and began to pick himself up. “It’s still better than coming down here in a_ dress _isn’t it?”_

 

_Sif huffed, clearly pouting._

 

_On his feet, Loki looked down at the parchment, and practically keened in distress which was enough for her to forget her own hurt feelings and move toward him. “What’s wrong?”_

 

 _“It’s_ torn _.” He held up the mangled parchment and sniffled._

 

_“Let me see.” Sif didn’t ask for him to hand it over, she knew that he wouldn’t, but moved closer to get a good look at it. The list was, indeed, torn, but only the first item was affected, and it was still possible to read what it was they were looking for. “It’s alright.” She assured him, her voice surprisingly gentle after her earlier behavior._

 

_He nodded and sniffled again, pulling the parchment back against his chest. Then they turned together to continue their trek. The both of them far more subdued._

 

_Loki took control of handling the purchases for his mother, and after Sif had tried to assist with a couple items only to be told they were not correct, she quickly lost interest in favor of browsing the booths for items of interest to herself. Overall there were a lot more things that she wasn’t interested in than those that she was, and by the time Loki had concluded his purchase and come to find her, she was poking around the wares of a travelling volva._

 

_She came upon a pile of leather discs, each a little smaller in diameter than her child-sized palm, and inscribed by different runes. One for strength, another for protection. Sif saw one for fertility, and another marriage, but the one she paused on was for perseverance._

 

_“You don’t want those.”_

 

_Sif jumped, then scowled over her shoulder at Loki. “You don’t know that.” She retorted._

 

_“I do. Mother says that those kinds of enchantments are no good unless they were cast with the wearer in mind.”_

 

 _“_ Fine _.” She huffed. “Maybe I don’t want one.”_

 

_Loki had come up to stand next to her but when she looked at him, his attention was on something else entirely. She sighed as he moved away from her to pick through a bowl of various herbs, all packed in tiny little pouches. “Mother has been teaching me some simple potions. These would be perfect for me to practice with on my own.”_

 

_One blonde eyebrow quirked, but Sif merely held her arms out for the purchases made for Frigga so he could better decide on those he wanted to buy for himself. By experience, she knew there would be no deterring him._

 

_It took him a while to sort through them all, but finally he had a handful of herb pouches bought and paid for._

 

~

 

The package sat, unassuming, upon the rumpled furs Sif hadn’t bothered to straighten when she’d climbed out of them at daybreak. A carved box of light wood, so small as to fit perfectly into the palm of her hand, or would have had she picked it up. The gold ribbon tied around the lid to hold it in place glittered in the guttering firelight, and she shivered as the snow in her hair melted and slid down the curve of her neck.

 

For several seconds, the noise from the revelry in the streets below her balcony were silenced under the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears. It hadn’t been there even an hour earlier when she had returned from the training yards and placed herself outside to listen to the beginning festivities while she considered whether she would join in on them.

 

Few was the number who could slip through the wards on her door and deposit a gift while her back was turned. Fewer still who could evoke so strong a reaction with nothing more than a small wooden box.

 

~

 

_“You aren’t wearing that to the feast, are you?”_

 

_Sif spun around hugging the gift against her chest, and looking as if she’d been caught by the pastry chef stealing treats. She looked down at the dirty tunic she was wearing and shook her head. “My mother surely has something horrendous to squeeze me into before then.”_

 

_Loki hummed as if he might say something else about it, but then his eyes landed on the little object in her arms. “What’s that?”_

 

_“Oh…” She blushed a little and held it out to him. “It’s for you. A box… I made it.”_

 

 

_He took it, turning it every which way to examine the designs she had carefully carved into the sides of the blonde-wood box. Swirls and geometric shapes, clearly done in a child’s hand, but she was proud of it nonetheless._

 

_“Kind of small, isn’t it?”_

 

_Her skin flushed darker, hurt feelings written clearly on her features as she held her hand out for it. “If you don’t want it, give it back.”_

 

 _“I didn’t say that.” His gaze slid from the box in his hands to her face where he finally realized she was upset. “I_ didn’t _.” He emphasized. “I like it.”_

 

_Sif swallowed thickly and let her hand drop. “I thought it would be the right size for your herbs.”_

 

_Loki’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! You’re right!” He pulled her in for a quick, one armed hug before hurrying off, assumedly to fill the box with herbs, and Sif, still a little unsure how to feel about his reception of her gift, resigned herself to the coiffing that was to come._

 

~

 

If felt like some sort of sick joke in which she was the punchline, and Sif didn’t appreciate it at all. Realizing that staring at the stupid thing wasn’t going to resolve the problem, she was still faced by the prospect of picking it up; of finding that an item, given long ago, had been returned to her. Lady Sif, Warrior Goddess of Asgard feared no man, but an errant box evoked a horrible feeling of dread.

 

Slowly she reached for it, closing her fingers around the edges. It was warm, as was the whole room with the fire still crackling. Still unable to bring herself to look at it too closely, she let her fingers wander over the sides, trying to identify the designs etched into it before reopening eyes she couldn’t remember closing, and untied the ribbon to get a better look.

 

Sif let it fall; ignored the way it fluttered the floor, and stared in relief at the precise carvings that covered the box in a floral pattern. She breathed a laugh that was more pain than amusement, and opened the box, hoping for something that she knew wasn’t possible. Loki was dead. The box could not have been from him any more than anything inside might have been.

 

Just under the lid was a letter, or rather, a short message from Thor who had sent the gift. A wish that she and the rest of his friends enjoy the Yule celebration, and a little anecdote to how he had stumbled across the gift he chose for them. Sif read it, but didn’t retain much as disappointment inexplicably flooded her veins. She set the message aside, and looked into the box where a little silver pendant lay, hung on a chain in the likeness of Mjölnir. Picking it up, Sif examined the workmanship before carrying it over to her vanity where a very different box held various pieces of jewelry that Sif rarely wore. The pendant was added before sliding the lid closed, and she dropped onto the bed, scooping the gift box back into her hands.

 

She felt oddly hollow. There was still a question to how the box had been delivered without her knowing it had been. Was it possible she was so caught up in her own thoughts that she wouldn’t have felt the wards react to a servant’s entrance? Did it really even matter? Too many things that had once mattered a great deal to her no longer seemed to receive any sort of reaction from her any longer. The desire to simply stop caring had grown great over the last couple years, and she hated it, refused to allow it to happen.

 

Looking down, the gold ribbon caught her eye, and she bent to pick it up only to startle when someone knocked. Cursing her jumpiness, Sif snagged the ribbon and made her way to the door to answer it where she found a servant holding a colorfully wrapped present. “I have a gift for you, my Lady.”

 

“Thank you, Leda. Can you tell me who sent it?” It seemed obviously enough, the thin wrapping with little stylized reindeer, their antlers done up in fairy lights, but seeing as she had a gift from Thor already…

 

“Volstagg passed it on from Thor.”

 

Sif frowned and accepted it, noting that it was roughly the same size as the other box, and carried it inside.

 

“Happy Yule!” The servant called from the door, and Sif looked back at her distractedly.

 

“To you as well.”

 

Leda bowed and let herself out while Sif contemplated the wrapping paper.

 

~

 

_Of all the Yuletide decorations, Sif loved the fairylights best of all. One of her favorite things was to wander away from the celebration and climb up on to the higher levels of the city where she could look down on all the lights. It reminded her of the view from the Bifrost without being so vast. Their own personal galaxy._

 

_She settled down on the broad ledge of a fountain and pulled her knees up against her chest, the skirts of her dress all but making them vanish beneath the material. She rested her chin upon one, and looped her arms loosely around her legs._

 

_“I knew I would find you here.”_

 

_Sif didn’t lift her head, but tilted it to look at Loki. “Not so hard to figure out. We always meet here on Yule.”_

 

_He shrugged. “Things sometimes change. Except you. You never seems to.”_

 

_She stuck her tongue out at him, not sure whether that was a dig or not._

 

_“I got you something.” He said, moving to sit next to her._

 

_“We never give each other gifts at Yule… I don’t have anything for you.” The distress in her voice at that realization surprised Loki and he waved his hand dismissively._

 

_“You just gave me a gift last week. The box, remember?”_

 

_“But that wasn’t a Yule gift, it was just something I thought you would like.” Sif protested._

 

_“Then consider this the same. Just something I thought you would like. Geez Sif.” He teased.  
“What do you think I’m going to give you? A snake that will eat all your hair?”_

 

_Sif looked pensive at that. Her vanity definitely revolved around her hair._

 

_“Just take it.” He huffed, and pushed a little package at her._

 

_Sif accepted it, and unwrapped the butcher paper which Loki collected in a tight ball in his palm._

 

_“Do you like it?” He asked uncertainly, and she looked up._

 

_“I thought you said these things were no good?” She held up the little disk of leather, runes for perseverance burned into the center._

 

_“No, I said that the ones you were going to buy were no good, not that the basic enchantment was bad, but if you don’t want it—“_

 

_Sif cut him off by quickly kissing him, leaning in without any real direction, and caught him on the corner of his mouth. He leaned back, wide-eyed, and she gave him a cheeky grin. “Thank you, Loki.”_

 

~

 

Unease twisted in her gut as she dug her fingers into the wrapping paper, and tore it free of the box within. Not as tall as the other box, and perhaps smaller in diameter as well, it was soft, blue in color and covered in velvet. The lid was hinged with a spring to keep it from falling open, and once she found the correct side to do so, cracked it open. It creaked before the lid popped open, and it was all Sif could do to remember how to breathe.

 

There, nestled in a little bed of blue satin was a leather disc. She reached for it, but before actually touching it, pulled back again and snapped the box shut. She left it on her bed and headed for her armor where she tugged her chainmail from its hanger and carried it over to bed.  
Stitched into the chainmail were more of the leather discs with various runes for protection, speed, and strength. The one for perseverance was discolored and hard to read, but the runes remained and had followed her since her first set of armor. Moving from one set of chainmail to the next, and the collection of discs was added to every so often when Loki thought of another one he thought would be beneficial.

 

They all looked the same, the handwriting recognizably similar, the slant the same, and the way he liked to add little decorative splashes. Sif reached for the box with a shaking hand and this time did retrieve the disc from inside, setting it down in the center of the others so she could try and pick out something that would allow her to squash this hope that was growing at a terrifying speed. She couldn’t afford to break again when that hope came to naught, but there was nothing to indicate that it hadn’t been made by Loki. Least of all the meaning behind the runes:

 

_Rememberance._

 

“Loki!” Her voice felt as raw as it sounded, pinched as her throat was from emotion, and she stood up, turning in a small circle in search of some sort of proof that he was there, watching her. It felt like madness bubbling up in her chest, and all she wanted was to know that he lived. That this was his game and not someone else’s.

 

And then the shadows moved, _rippled_ in a way that was completely familiar, and Sif flung herself at it. Whether she intended to hug him or punch him, it was up for debate all the way up to the very last moment when he pulled her into his arms.

 

“You’re…” _Dead_. But she just couldn’t bring herself to say it. “How are you here?”

 

“A tale for another time, my Lady; though I promise to tell it soon.” He looked uncertain as he brushed wayward strands of ebony out of her face.

 

“I don’t have anything for you.” She murmured, pulling her eyes away from his and burying her face in his neck.

 

Loki shivered, his fingers curling into her back. “This is gift enough.” He promised. “Even if only for tonight. I expect there will be plenty of grievances—“

 

Sif cut him off, covering his mouth with hers in a kiss that made it very clear that she was willing to put it all aside for the night, if not longer still. They broke only when they were both out of breath, and she twisted a strand of Loki’s hair around her finger, giving it a tug. “Thank you, Loki.”


End file.
